


Flower Crowns, Hearts and Other Things Mend

by HysteriaCrows



Category: Eddsworld - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Nostalgia, also in the past, but he wasnt once, but in the past, cause his ex is a jick now, grunge!tom, i have no idea what im doing, lowkey eddmatt, nostalgia au, pastel!tord, this fic is all improv no joke, tom is nostalgic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-07
Updated: 2017-12-17
Packaged: 2018-12-12 07:18:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 15,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11732226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HysteriaCrows/pseuds/HysteriaCrows
Summary: The truth keeps everything simple. Lies heap complication on top of complication on top of complication. That’s what they say, right? Never lie. The truth is always the safest bet.But.In which Tom comes to a realization he would've been just fine not realizing.Takes place after the events of the End.





	1. Polaroids

The truth keeps everything simple. Lies heap complication on top of complication on top of complication. That’s what they say, right? Never lie. The truth is always the safest bet.

But.

That’s the thing, there’s always that extra little _but_.

But what if it’s not one person doing the lying? What if it’s a fabricated lie, one that couldn’t be avoided? I swear to God, if it still makes things complicated, there will be no end to this rabbit hole that is drunken memories.

So, if the truth is the best option, what do you do when you discover you’ve once loved your enemy? Not just any enemy; the kind of enemy that blew up your house and tried to kill your friends. The kind of enemy that emotionally tortured you for years and stripped you of your stability.

What do you do then?

What do you tell your friends? How do you forget?

Looking back on it, it should have been pretty obvious. After all, Tord is not a common name, especially not a Tord from Norway who has stupid fucking gravity-defying hair that he must have to style every morning.

Tom sighed, staring at the array of photos splayed out on his coffee table in front of him.

With his legs tucked under him and a thin, warn blanket draped over his shoulders, Tom shuffled through the photos once more.

They all depicted happy young teens, one of whom consistently wore pastel coloured clothing and obviously kept up that aesthetic throughout the years between the photos. The other had dark, grunge inspired clothes on, with common emo bands on them. Tom still remembered some of the bands, Fall out Boy and My Chemical Romance being amongst those few.

Tom knew exactly who these teens were, when the photos were taken and where, and how they ended up in his possession.

He carefully picked one up, examining it for what must have been the 15th time by now. It was one of the later pictures; the teens were obviously more mature in this one. Tom held it up close to his face and noted the way past Tord’s pastel flower crown fell unevenly across his forehead.

He noted past Tord’s arm draped around past Tom’s neck, and how they were both smiling so genuinely in the photo.

They were obviously very close. One might even go as far as to say in love.

Tom cringed in disgust, tossing the Polaroid back onto the table.

Tom thought back to last week when he’d finally got around to clearing out his storage unit, he’d found this old box then. Out of curiosity, he’d opened it just to see what was inside. He’d picked up one of the pictures, looked at it for half a second before cringing and dropping it back into the box, vowing to never look at it again.

Now here he sat on the couch of his living room, staring at them all. There were about 12 in total; all of them had both him and Tord smiling for the camera. They were even kissing in one or two.

He remembered dating Tord. Except, the Tord he’d dated wasn’t the Tord he knew now. In fact, the two versions of the Norwegian had been different people entirely in his memory up until last week when he’d found the pictures. It had all fit together then, like two pieces of a puzzle.

He had once dated Tord.

The Tord from the past, the one he’d dated, was kind and soft and so, so radiant. He had so much life and so much passion, even Tom now had no idea why he’d dated the depressed emo freak that Tom had been back in high school. Tord had been the one good thing in his life at a time where everything had gone to shit.

The more recent Tord, however, had been the main shitty thing in his life when everything had been going fairly well. That’s pretty much why Tom believed he had such different memories of the same person, because Tord had had completely opposite effects on his life at different times.

It was kind of sad, really, looking at these photos of someone he’d sincerely loved at one point. The Tord he’d loved was dead though, that Tord died when he was forced to go back to Norway because his parents didn’t agree with the student exchange program in London.

Tord had given these photos to Tom on his last day in London. Tom specifically remembered meeting Tord on a bridge by the woods, where Tord had lovingly placed an envelope full of Polaroids in Tom’s hands before leaning in and whispering; “It’s a little something to remember me by” before kissing him on the cheek.

They’d exchanged their goodbyes after that, with the promise of keeping in touch, before they walked away from each other for ever.

They never did keep in touch.

So, Tom had existed during his senior year of high school without Tord. He remembered that that time had been the hardest thing up to that point in his life. Living without Tord had hurt for too long. He remembered his senior year being the time when he really got into alcohol and everything was just kind of blurry in his memory for the next few years after that.

He still couldn’t believe that he’d been in love with the monster that had ruined his life and he hadn’t even noticed until now.

The next biggest thought on his mind at the moment; did Tord remember him as the same Tom from high school? All these years, has Tord known that they’d dated once? Is that why he was such a dick all of the time? Had Tord been lying to him that whole time?

Tom couldn’t imagine how Tord could have not recognized him; there weren’t a ton of people around with eyes as black as their souls.

Tom was just about to pick up another photo when he heard a clanking sound followed by a dull thud coming from the door.

He sat up straighter to look behind him at the door to his apartment. He could hear faint footsteps leading away from his door. A plain white envelope had been dropped through the mail slot and was now sitting on the floor in front of his door.

Tom quickly looked to the digital clock above the TV; 1:47am. Who the hell was dropping off mail this late? He quickly shrugged off his blanket and went to the door, crouching down to retrieve the envelope. His name had been scrawled in a delicate cursive font in red ink.

_Thomas._

No return address, no date, nothing.

He carefully opened his door and looked down the hall both ways; no sign of anyone. Whoever had dropped off the letter was long gone by now. He closed his door again and carried the envelope back to the couch, placing it on top of the photos.

He resumed his position amongst the cushions and stared at the envelope for a while.

After collecting himself enough to handle whatever was in the nearly 2:00am envelope, he opened it.

-

Tom carefully slid his thumb along the underside of the envelope’s flap, tearing open the seal. There was a bright crimson paper inside, folded into three. He slid the page out of the envelope and unfolded it. It read;

_Dear Thomas,_

_I know it’s been a while since we spoke last, and I apologize for the terms we left on, but I am writing you to cordially invite you to a Gala I am hosting in honor of our team’s recent success. I understand if you decline, but I really do feel like it would be a good opportunity for us to reunite. I truly do hope Edd, Matt and yourself will consider attending._

_Yours Truly,_  
_Tord._

  
Followed by the event’s information.

The letter didn’t say what he was expecting it to say. In fact, it was just about the last thing he’d expected.

It was… Tord? Was it actually? No, that’s impossible; he was killed with his giant robot. There’s no way he’s alive, nonetheless… hosting a gala? What the hell kind of sick joke was this?

Tom huffed and tossed the letter onto the table carelessly. He found his gaze drifting towards it again, the cursive red ink of the lettering standing out in his vision.

_Thomas._

He sighed, making a promise to himself to talk to Edd and Matt about it in the morning. For now, he pulled the blanket up over him and fell asleep on the couch another night, darkness swallowing him as he fell into a deep slumber.

 

_“Tord,” he whispered. Tord stood on the bridge in front of him, his pale lavender hoodie matching his flower crown. “Tom, my love, I have something for you.” Tord replied softly, reaching into his hoodie pocket and pulling out a pastel blue envelope._

_“What- Tord, what’s this?” he asked, taking the envelope._

_Tord smiled sadly. He leaned in next to Tom’s ear, “Something to remember me by.” He whispered, before giving Tom a quick peck on the cheek._

_Tom grabbed Tord’s waist gently and pulled him against him._

_“Is that all I’m getting?” he asked with false amusement, he hoped the hollowness in his tone wasn't audible. Tord smiled, leaning in and pressing his lips against Tom’s sensually. Tom kissed him back, but it only lasted a second. Tord soon pulled away._

_“This isn’t goodbye. This is see you later.” Tord whispered. “So… I’ll see you later, Tom. I’ll text you once I’m home.” He said. Tom nodded; that’s all he could do. He was too scared of saying anything more._

_“See you, Tord. I love you.” Tom replied quietly._

_“I love you too.”_

 

Tom woke up crying that morning.


	2. Rationality

The sound of dripping water was the only sound coming from the kitchen as Tom’s morning coffee filtered through into his mug.

He hadn’t dreamt about Tord in so long, and he was just fine not doing so.

Last night, he was forced to relive a memory that he’d spent months, maybe even years, repressing. The pain was so much more raw now. It was like losing him all over again but as an unstable teenager. Except now he’s an adult with a life and friends, and it still hurt. Now that just isn’t fair.

Needless to say, he wasn’t in a good mood.

Tom sighed, snatching a bottle of vodka off of the counter and dribbling some into his coffee. It was too early for this shit.

Once his coffee was done, he brought it back to the living room with him and set it down on the coffee table. He reached for the TV remote, but paused. He noticed the Polaroids still scattered amongst other things on the table.

He reached for one, examining it closely. In this one, they were at some kind of carnival. Tom wasn’t too sure which; there had been a lot that had come into town during high school.  
Tord was clad in a pastel yellow shirt patterned with stars and a daisy flower crown. He was holding a giant stuffed teddy bear and smiling at the camera enthusiastically, while Tom was looking over somewhere off camera, seemingly not noticing that a photo was being taken.

Tom remembered this instance at the carnival, he’d won Tord a teddy bear playing bottle toss.

Tom grimaced and put the photo back where it’d been. Instead of wasting the morning (afternoon?) watching Professor Why, he got up, chugged his scolding coffee and went to the bathroom.

In the next ten minutes, he took a shower, got dressed, brushed his hair and ate a bowl of corn pops. He quickly put his blue hoodie on over top of his black t-shirt, grabbed “Tord’s” letter and headed out the door.

He walked down the hall of the apartment complex to Edd’s place, knocking on the door twice before letting himself in.

Edd sat on the couch and looked up as Tom entered. “Oh, hey Tom.” He said, looking back to the TV screen.

“Hey.” He replied, walking over and sitting down next to Edd on the sofa.

A few minutes passed, The Walking Dead was playing on TV, but Edd was just staring at the screen blankly. It was clear he wasn’t very interested.

Tom cleared his throat, “Did you, uh, get one of these?” he asked, holding up the crimson letter for Edd to see.

Edd looked over, his eyes widening. “You too?” he asked, surprised.

Tom nodded.

“Yeah… what do you make of it?” Edd asked, grabbing the remote from the arm rest and muting the TV.

“I dunno. Do you think it could really be him?” Tom asked. He was almost scared to think about it.

Edd thought for a moment, “I mean, it’s possible. They never found his body after you shot down his robot.” He replied.

Tom considered this for a moment. It was true. His body was never found. Tom opened the letter again, skim reading it.

“Let’s say it really is him, what do we do with the Gala?” Tom asked, lowering the letter.

“What can we do? We either go or we don’t. We can find out what’s going on or wonder for the rest of our lives. I think our choice is kind of obvious.” Edd said. Tom looked up at him quickly. “What?”

Edd shrugged, “Think about it, we’ve been given an opportunity to actually know what’s going on. We should take it, don’t you think?” he said, as if it was obvious.

“He tried to kill us, Edd.” Tom deadpanned, raising his eyebrows.

“So? If he invited us there, I think he’s changed.”

“Changed for the worst maybe. I mean, do you sincerely think this is a good idea? Going to our potentially dead ex-friend’s gala because why not? What could possibly go wrong?” Tom said sarcastically.

“Yes, actually. If Tord doesn’t kill me, the curiosity will. I’ve been thinking about this all night, Tom. I’m going. I’ll respect your decision no matter what you choose, but I’ve made up my mind.” Edd said, his voice clear.

There was no way Tom was going to be able to convince him now. Doesn’t mean he won’t try. He sighed, “Are you ready to face him again? How can you be so calm about this?” He asked. He knew that he himself definitely wasn’t. Edd looked over at him through his bangs, “I need to know why he did it. I keep wondering, I keep remembering him. This is my only chance to get answers. You get that, right?”

Tom sighed, “Fine. Yeah. I do. It’s just… we haven’t seen him in so long, you sure you’re up for this?”

Edd nodded, “I’m sure. Do you want to come or not?”

“No, I don’t actually. But, I can’t let you go alone. Not with him. So I’ll come.” He replied.

Edd looked at him sadly, “Don’t come if you don’t want to. I don’t want to make you—“

“Edd. I’m coming.”

Edd hesitated, before breaking into a smile, “Thanks, Tom.” He said sincerely.

Tom nodded. “Have you talked to Matt about this? Does he have a letter too?” He asked. Edd shook his head.

“I haven’t talked to him in a couple days. I’ve no idea if he’s got one.” He replied.

Tom nodded, “We should check. It’d be better to have three of us opposed to two.” He said. Edd pulled out his phone a moment later and typed up a quick text to Matt, who responded almost immediately; I’ll be there in a second. Just gotta finish up my eyeliner.

Ten minutes of watching reruns of The Walking Dead later, Matt arrived, his makeup on point as always.

“Hey, Edd. Hey, Tom. What’s going on?” He greeted.

Edd grabbed the Crimson Letter from the side table next to the sofa where Tom had put it earlier. He held it up for Matt to see, “Did you get one?” he asked blatantly.

Matt looked startled, “What? Uh, yeah.” He said, “Did both of you get one too?”

Tom nodded. “We’re going to the Gala too, since someone,” he side eyed Edd, “wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

Edd gave Tom a look, “Yeah. We’ve talked about it. You up for it?” he asked.

Matt’s eyes were still wide, “I- I guess? But, what if it’s a trap? He could kill us, you realize that, yeah?” Matt argued.

Edd nodded, “Like I said, we talked about it.”

“Don’t worry, I’m bringing my gun.” Tom said. Edd looked at him sharply, but didn’t say anything. Matt sighed, “So, you’re both going then?”

“Yeah.” Edd replied.

Tom shrugged, “You really don’t have to go, Matt. I’m only going because Edd is. I don’t trust him around Tord.” He said. Edd glanced at him sourly.

“I- I’ll think about it. What day is it again?” Matt said, an anxious expression on his makeup covered face.

“Wednesday.” Edd replied.

Matt sighed, “What day is the _Gala_?”

“Friday.” Tom interjected, looking at the Crimson Letter.

Matt nodded, “Well, I promised my sister I’d see her today. I should go.” He said.

Edd, Tom and Matt made a plan to talk about it tomorrow. Matt said goodbye and went back to his apartment. Tom came up with an excuse involving dinner in the oven and he left as well.

Edd knew Tom didn’t have an oven in his apartment.

-

That night, Tom had curled up on the couch to watch some Netflix. With a bowl of popcorn and a bottle of Smirnoff, he put on Professor Why and prepared himself for a late night.

He wasn’t able to eat anything though, his stomach turned too much for that. He was barely able to hold down the Smirnoff. He kept thinking about facing Tord. Would it be Tord at all? Would Tord try to kill them? Who’s his team? Why did he want to see them? Would he… remember their time from high school?

Tom shook his head, taking another swig of alcohol. This was too much.

At 12:18am, Tom shut off the TV and put his food down on the table. It was earlier, far earlier, than he’d expected to go to bed that night, but he was too sad and sick to stay up any longer.

He’d finished his second bottle of Smirnoff a little while ago, but he wouldn’t be able to keep a third one down.

He was too terrified.

That’s the truth; he was terrified. It had taken him too long to come to terms with that, but it was true. He’d been thinking about Tord and his past for the past week or so nonstop and it was driving him crazy.

He was terrified of facing Tord. He couldn’t exactly explain why, but he was.

He couldn’t take any more of this.

On one hand, maybe seeing Tord would help him put everything to rest, give him some closure.

Or maybe it’d make things worse. Maybe it’d haunt him forever.

He shivered at the thought, pulling a blanket over his head, but not before he caught a glimpse of the Polaroids he hadn’t bothered to move. He sighed, curling up in the inky blackness of the covers, and fell asleep.

 

_Tom was crying in the janitor’s closet. Again. This was the second time this week, and the janitor was beginning to get tired of finding students in here sobbing._

_It was another panic attack, Tom knew that. One of the kids in his English class had gotten angry and thrown her glass water bottle at the teacher. Tom had gotten triggered, reminded by the alcoholic violence from his family, and had ran out of the room._

_He tried to muffle his sobs in his sleeves, but it did little to quiet the hiccups and sniffles._

_“Tom? Sunshine, you there?” Tom recognized Tord’s voice on the other side of the door._

_Tom hesitated, “Go away, Tord. I’m fine.” He sniffled; he hated the thought of Tord seeing him like this._

_“Tom, please, I want to help.” Tord said softly, pressing himself against the door._

_“Go away.” Tom repeated. Tord sighed, placing his hand on the doorknob and slowly turning it. He pulled the door open and looked at Tom empathetically._  
_“Sweetheart, what happened?” he asked._

_Tom only sniffled._

_Tord walked over to him and sat down next to Tom, taking his hands in his._

_“I love you, okay? I want you to know that.” He said. Tom looked up at him, his hood covering part of his face. His eyes and cheeks were red and puffy, streaked with tears. Tom only nodded half-heartedly, knowing that if he said anything his voice would crack and shake._

_Tord kissed him on the forehead and held him in his pastel clad arms until Tom had calmed down. Whenever he was with Tord like this, he always felt so safe, so secure._  
_Tord always made Tom feel better._

_Eventually, Tom’s tears stopped flowing and his shaking subsided. He hesitantly stood up, Tord helping him._

_Tom smiled and looked up to the Norwegian, only to scream and stumble back. Instead of being smooth and tan, Tord’s flesh was grey and rotting. His eyes were a hollow black, with some kind of black liquid dripping from them._

_His clothing was torn and tattered, and worst of all; his mouth hung open in a silent scream, as if his jaw had been disconnected from his head. His teeth, along with everything else in his mouth was black, and dripped down onto the floor._

_His once pink flower crown was now wilted and thorny, briars grew around his ankles._

_Tom screamed and tried to run, but found that he couldn’t move. He was frozen in place, with this horrific, decaying version of Tord to watch him struggle._

_Everything became blurry, dark splotches clouded his vision as the floor felt as if it was crumbling beneath him. He tried to cry for help, but no noise came out. Everything went black, and he was left alone in his terror._

 

Tom woke up screaming bloody murder the next morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go, two chapters in two days, we're doing good. So, someone asked me about smut in the future, and i don't think there will be. like i said, i don't have a plan for this, so i'm not sure. if there is, however, it will be relatively mild. no hardcore smut in this house. i guess we'll see ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> and i guess this was more horror than i'd anticipated at first ??? oh well, improv will do that.
> 
> Also, thanks for the nice comments, i really appreciate them :)


	3. Playlist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Honestly just the playlist I made for writing this shitty fic

Distance - Christina Perri

The Other Side of Paradise - Glass Animals

BITE -Troy Sivan

Burning Pile - Mother Mother

Blue blood - Foals

Lose it - Oh Wonder

Little Pistol - Mother Mother

Serpents - Sharon Van Etten

Polarize - Twenty one pilots

Drive - Halsey

Flume - Bon Iver

Ocean Eyes - Billie Eilish

BONUS-

Go get your gun - The Dear Hunter

Blame - Calvin Harris

Hayloft - Mother Mother

Link to Spotify playlist: https://open.spotify.com/user/rai_magic/playlist/2Dc0Qu1cAxsPcyeLL5ixls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I just wanted to share the playlist I'd created for writing this fic.
> 
> Also, I've been thinking more about the whole smut thing, and I realized there's a better chance of it happening than I originally thought. I don't want to commit to anything at the moment, but it's a thought.
> 
> Again, I really appreciate the comments, I probably wouldn't keep writing this shit without them, thank you:)
> 
> And btw I'm working on the legitimate chapter 3 right now, but I don't know when I'll have a chance to post it, so it should be out within the next week or so. Ish.
> 
> I might add more to this playlist as it goes on, so I mean, yeah:/ (it's a small playlist)


	4. Little Pistol

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It only just gets remotely interesting in this chapter:/
> 
>  
> 
> *TW* Panic attacks.
> 
>  
> 
> please have low expectations for this fic

It was 5am when Tom woke up. He was in a cold sweat, there were tears drying on his cheeks and his lungs hurt, as if he hadn’t been able to breathe. His hands were shaking and his eyes wouldn’t focus.

He had no idea what he’d dreamt about. He was absolutely terrified, but he had no idea why. He honestly had no recollection of what had happened, and something told him he didn’t want to.

He groaned, rolling over. His muscles ached and his heart pounded faster than if he’d run a marathon. Not that he’d know anything about physical activity, but he could assume.

He didn’t bother getting up. He was too tired. Too broken.

Tom didn’t remember falling asleep again, but when he woke up it was 11:53am according to the clock above his TV.

2:23pm. Awake again. There was a loud pounding sound echoing around him. At first, he’d assumed it was inside his head, but when he heard his name being called, he knew it wasn’t.

Incoherent words drifted in and out of his hearing. After only registering garbled shouts for a moment, he finally began comprehending some of the speech.

“TOM! Tom, open the door…! It’s me, Edd!”

Tom’s consciousness came back to him like a push off of a cliff, he stumbled to his feet, lazily hurrying to the door and unlocking it. He didn’t have time to open it before Edd was swinging it open, sending him stumbling backwards.

“Tom! Goddammit, why didn’t you get the door??” Edd demanded, worry and frustration clear in his tone.

Tom hesitated a moment, his brain taking an excessive amount of time to process what Edd had said. “I- I was asleep…!” he finally managed to spit out.

Edd rolled his eyes, walking into the apartment. “Well, while you were asleep, Matt and I were talking. He’s coming by the way.”

Tom nodded, closing the door. “Is that all?” he asked.

Edd turned around and looked at him, “I wanted to see if you were okay. You’ve been acting kind of off lately, and you look like shit.” He said.

Tom groaned, “Wow, Edd, tell how you really feel.” He mumbled sarcastically.

“What?”

“Nothing. Never mind. Just— I’m fine. Don’t worry about it.”

Edd nodded, “Okay… well, the Gala’s tomorrow. Do you have something to wear? Me and Matt were gonna go look for some stuff. Wanna come?” he asked.

Tom considered it. Going outside, clothing shopping, with Edd and Matt. He already had something to wear, and he really didn’t feel the best; his head hurt and he felt kind of sick to his stomach. But he needed a time killer.

“Sure. I’ll be at your place in 20 minutes.” He said. Edd nodded, “See ya.”

Once Edd was gone, Tom took a shower, got dressed and brushed his hair. He didn’t bother with breakfast, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to hold it down. He threw on his blue hoodie, grabbed his wallet and headed out.

He walked down the hall to Edd’s place, opening the door without knocking. Edd and Matt were sitting close together on the couch, speaking in hushed whispers. They looked up as Tom entered.  
“Hey, Tom.” Matt said, smiling at him. Tom returned a weak smile.

Edd got up, “Alright, let’s go.”

Tom stayed back a moment as Edd and Matt walked out the door. He watched them intertwine their fingers together as they did so. He sighed, focusing his gaze on the ground and following them.

-

4 hours later, Tom returned home, with nothing more than some more ammunition for an old pistol he had somewhere.

He rummaged around in his room for half an hour before finding the damn thing. He loaded it and put it on his nightstand table for tomorrow.

After a few hours of watching shows he didn’t care about, and looking through the Polaroids that were on his table still, he dragged himself off of the couch and into his room.

He passed out almost immediately once he got onto his bed, his both physical and emotional exhaustion catching up to him.

 

_Tord sat in front of him on the grassy field, a half weaved flower crown in his hands. It was made with small white flowers and daisies; field flowers._

_The sun shone golden in the sky, casting a brilliant white light across everything._

_Tom sat in awe watching Tord as he skillfully crafted the crown. After a few minutes of comfortable silence and occasional sheepish glances, Tord looked up at him with a huge smile on his face._

_“Here you go, beautiful.” He whispered, placing the finished crown on Tom’s head. Tom smiled; a genuine, happy smile._

_“You’re the beautiful one” he replied. Both boys looked at each other for a moment before bursting out laughing, falling back onto the soft, padded grass. It felt like a dream, it honestly did, everything was perfect. He was here, now, with Tord, and there was nothing to worry about._

_“I love you” Tord said._

_Tom smiled, “I love you too.”_

 

Tom woke up that morning with a huge smile on his face.

It quickly faded as he realized where he was and what was happening today. He felt around for his phone lazily on his nightstand table, accidentally knocking the pistol off, and checked the time.  
10:22 am. Earlier than usual.

He dragged himself out of bed, put the pistol back where it had been, and shuffled on over to the bathroom. He took a quick shower, before drying off and having a nutritious breakfast consisting of Cheerios and Nutella.

Tom spent the rest of the day worrying about the gala.

After wasting his day playing and replaying absurd possibilities in his head for tonight, and re-watching episodes of shows he’d seen dozens of times, 7:30 finally came around. He had half an hour to get ready. Shit.

He got off of the couch and hurried to the bathroom, shaved, combed his hair and put on a bit of Matt’s eyeliner. Heading to his room to get dressed, he realized his clothing options were considerably more limited than he’d originally thought.

Apparently, Tom didn’t own as many formal outfits as previously believed. The fanciest thing he owned was a deep blue button-up, a black formal vest and an assortment of ties he never wore.  
He groaned and put on the button-up and vest, accompanied by a pair of black jeans. Classy.

Before leaving his room, he tucked the pistol into the back of his shirt, praying that it wasn’t too noticeable.

His checkered tie was hanging beside his door; he grabbed it quickly and threw it around his neck.

Just before he left the apartment, he snatched a flask full of whiskey from the kitchen counter and stuffed it into his pants pocket.

Tom rushed down the hall to Edd’s apartment, not bothering to knock as he opened the door. Edd and Matt were sitting together on the couch when Tom entered. Edd looked up at Tom quickly, “Hey, you ready?” he asked.

Tom nodded.

“Let’s go, then.” Matt said.

-

The three of them climbed into an Uber, they were on way to the Gala. Tom’s nerves felt like they were on fire with how anxious he was. He pressed himself against the side of the car for the entirety of the ride, trying not to think about it.

If only he’d known how bad tonight would be.

Eventually, the Uber driver pulled up to the address they’d given him. The three of them climbed out of the car in awe of where they’d been taken.

In front of them was a large, white, nearly Parliament sized building, there were elaborate carvings across thick marble pillars and antique looking décor visible inside. The place was almost fit for a king.  
How Tord had managed to get a hold of this place, Tom had no idea. Perhaps he would never know.

Even from the entrance, Tom could see people in elegant, expensive looking outfits. Feathered boas and embroidered top hats decorated the heads and shoulders of the inhabitants of the building. The outfits here looked like they costed more than Tom’s apartment.

Tom suddenly felt very under dressed.

Of what was visible from the outside, everyone was dancing slowly to the soft music in the background or chatting amongst themselves, most of them with a glass in their hand. They all looked very content.

Tom looked up; the large archway of an entrance loomed overhead of them.

Tom took a deep breath to try and steady his nerves, which were now sizzling holes on his insides. This couldn’t be happening. It just couldn’t. There was no way.

But it was. He was here, and Tord was most likely in there, and holy shit this was really happening and he just couldn’t do this—

“Tom? Tom, you okay, buddy?” It was Edd. Of course.

Tom realized his was sweating and quickly wiped his forehead with his sleeve. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good.” He replied, he didn’t sound convincing even in his own ears.

Edd looked at him a moment, and for a second Tom was worried he’d say more about it, but Edd only nodded, to Tom’s relief.

“Well, let’s go in then.” Edd said, stepping up the thin marble steps into the hall. Matt gave Tom a weak, but reassuring smile, and followed Edd up. Tom hesitantly followed; he was sure this was a questionable plan.

There were even more people than he’d anticipated, the ballroom was crowded with all sorts of people. All of whom had assumedly donated to, or helped fight alongside Tord and his cause. If this was Tord’s event at all.

Maybe he was dead. Maybe these were his followers. Very wealthy, rich followers. Who knows?

Tom stayed close to Edd and Matt, distantly hearing their conversation;

“We need to fit in! Make it look like we belong.”

“Maybe we don’t belong!”

“Ugh, just here- dance with me.”

“What?”

“We need to blend in. Dance with me.”

“Fine! But only cause we have to.”

“Sure.”

Tom wasn’t too sure who had said what, his mind was drifting elsewhere, but he did notice when they started walking away from him, into the crowd.

“What? Guys, get back here!” he called. By time Tom had called out to them, they were being swept farther into the room. Apparently they didn’t want to hear him. Edd’s arms were wrapped around Matt’s neck and Matt’s hands were on Edd’s hips. Tom shot them a bitter glare.

Tom didn’t bother going after them, there were too many couples and or groups of people dancing for him to even attempt. It was rather upsetting.

Tom sighed, hanging around one of the pillars. He was very conscious of the gun tucked under the back of his shirt, and the flask in his pants pocket.

He mainly stuck around the corners of the room for a while. He would sip his vodka every little bit. He wasn’t too sure how much time had passed, but it had all been very uncomfortable.

Eventually, a loud voice boomed from the front of the room. Tom looked up to see a tall, thin man at the top of the grand marble staircase. He had dark brown hair parted down the middle and a dark tux on. It was hard to make out all of his features from where he stood, but his voice was clear, being amplified by the speakers located around the room.

“Hello, everyone! My name is Pat and I’d like to share some words with you before our host arrives,” the man, Pat, said. Their host? Tord maybe? Tom tensed slightly, giving Pat his full attention.

“First off, thank you all for coming out tonight. Your commitment to our team has made tonight possible. As you may know, we’ve recently gained an alliance with one of the Norwegian cabinets. Our plan will now continue from here.” The room erupted in applause, everyone clapping excitedly.

Tom had no idea what the plan was, but he didn’t spend too long worrying about it.

Pat paused for a moment, holding his hand up to his ear, as if he had an earpiece in. After a second, he looked up at the crowd again, with a smile plastered on his face. A painfully fake smile, Tom almost felt bad for the guy.

“There is more that I would like to say, but I’ve just been informed that our host has arrived! Everyone, I present to you, our commander in chief, Red Leader!” Pat said excitedly.

Again, the crowd broke out in applause, hooting and hollering at the recent announcement.

Thoughts swirled in and out of Tom’s head. Red Leader. Could it be him? Was he alive? Somewhere in his mind, Tom knew he was overreacting. He knew he was being paranoid. But he couldn’t really help it, especially with the new information he retained the other day. He was scared. Terrified, almost.

A moment later, as the applause was dying down, a man slightly shorter man than Pat stepped beside him. He had scars covering half of his face, and his suit had been tailored to cater to his prosthetic- no, not prosthetic, robotic- arm. He wore an eyepatch to cover one of his eyes, and he had a lop-sided grin, assumedly due to the scars.

Tom recognized him immediately.

Tord.

He had the same devil-horned sandy blond hair and tan skin. There was no doubt who it was.

Suddenly, an image formed itself in Tom’s mind. A rotting, decaying version of his Tord, with inky black orifices and a briar crown sitting atop his matted, uneven hair.

Tom nearly gagged as his dream from last night came back to him in full technicolour; crying alone as a teen, Tord coming to his aid and that godawful version of the boy he’d loved.

He was distantly aware of Tord giving a speech from the top of the staircase, but he wasn’t listening. He could feel the panic rising in his throat, his vision was becoming unfocused and blurry.  
He had to get out of here. Now.

He looked around quickly, in a panic, and soon saw a balcony nearby. The pushed past people in the crowd, most of whom scolded him or glared in annoyance. He didn’t care though, the walls felt as if they were closing in on him and his self-control was rapidly slipping away.

The moment he closed the glass paned doors behind him that led to the balcony, he broke down. Luckily, no one inside was paying him much attention; they were all focused on their leader.

Tom fell to his knees, gripping emptily at his chest; trying to slow his breathing. He was distantly aware of the crowd applauding. Cheer, clap, cheer, clap. He had no interest in them; he didn’t have any attention to give anyways.

As time stretched out, Tom’s breathing slowed and his heart rate gradually steadied. He managed to stand up and walk over to the railing. He placed his hands on the cool marble there, and took a deep breath. He still had a few tears falling down his cheeks, but he definitely wasn’t panicking anymore.

He hoped his eyeliner hadn’t run too much.

He began forming a plan to go back to Edd and Matt and tell them he was going home, but he was soon interrupted by the sound of the doors opening behind him. At first he’d assumed it was someone coming outside for some fresh air, or maybe Edd coming to look for him. He was hit with the realization that he was very wrong with both assumptions as he heard a familiar Norwegian voice speak.

“Tom? I see you made it.”

Tom didn’t dare say anything. He couldn’t. His throat suddenly became dry like sandpaper. He had no idea where this came from, but he just couldn’t manage a response.

“Tom?”

“Go away.” He croaked. He was oddly unsurprised with Tord’s company, and it kind of freaked him out.

“Tom, are you okay?” Tord asked, he didn’t sound like he cared through. More like he just wanted to know why a guest of his wasn’t joining the fun.

“Get the fuck away, Tord.” He hissed. It hurt his throat.

Tom heard Tord’s footsteps approaching him, then a cold, metal hand on his shoulder.

“Why don’t you join the rest of us inside?” he asked. Tom couldn’t tell if it was just his mind or not, but Tord sounded terribly fake.

Tom shrugged Tord’s hand off of him harshly, “Why do you care?” he asked. He could slowly feel his panic from earlier turning into anger.

“I invited you for a reason.” Tord replied calmly, as if it was obvious.

“What reason would that be, exactly?” Tom demanded, turning to face the other. Tord only held his gaze calmly.

“I mentioned it in my letter. To reunite. Maybe we can talk about it sometime, preferably under less… formal conditions.”

Tom stared at him disbelievingly, “What? No. No way, I wouldn’t go anywhere alone with you. I’d never go anywhere with you at all.” He said. He had no idea where this sudden confidence had come from, but he was very glad it was there.

Tord looked around them, “Isn’t that what you’re doing… now?” he asked.

Tom paused for a moment. “Fuck you.” He said. Wow. Good one. Nice comeback there.

Tord sighed, “My full intention is to make things right with you. For tonight, can we just pretend I have?” he asked.

Tom opened his mouth to argue, but he closed it before he was able to. He considered it; existing alongside Tord in mutual agreement not to hate each other. Just for one night. He thought back to high school, all those times with Tord, how loving he’d been. Tom had believed that that Tord was dead, long gone. But maybe, just maybe, that wasn’t true. Maybe some pastel was still in him.

Tom nodded, “Fine.” He said.

Tord smiled, extending his hand to him, “In that case, may I have this dance?” he asked.

Tom was surprised. He honestly was. Without thinking, he reached out and took Tord’s hand.

Tord smiled sweetly. He led Tom out into the ballroom again, near the middle of the room, and placed his hand on Tom’s hip, the other one holding his hand.

Tom stumbled a bit at first, before finding a rhythm with Tord. It was oddly calming to be here with him, stepping back and forth to the rhythm of the music. For a while he was able to forget, he was able to forget all the times he’d been hurt by him. For a while, it was just him and Tord, back at semiformal in their 7th year.

They hadn’t exchanged any words, but none were needed. They were both mutually content just… existing together.

Eventually another dip was coming up in the dance; they spun around once before Tord wrapped an arm around Tom’s back and dipped him. A second later, when they came up again, Tord had a gun in his hand, presentable to Tom.

Tom tensed and pushed himself away from Tord. It took him a moment to realize his gun wasn’t tucked into the back of his shirt anymore.

Tord raised an eyebrow, looking unimpressed. He was holding the gun with the barrel facing upwards, his finger wasn’t on the trigger and it wasn’t cocked, thank god.

“You brought a gun?” Tord asked. He was not amused.

Tom took a moment to collect himself, “Wh- what were you expecting?? You blew up my house the last time I saw you.” He argued.

Tord sighed, tucking the gun into his belt.

Tom stood a foot away from him, his shoulders tensed. “Stop looking at me like that.” He said. Tord had the same look on his face as he did on the wanted poster back in the control room of their old house.

The face he had before he betrayed them.

By this time, their conflict had caught the attention of some people dancing around them. Tord hardly seemed to notice them though, his focus was on Tom.

“Looking at you how?” Tord asked, his voice flat.

“Like… _that_. Fuck, stop doing that.” Tom said. He took a step back.

“Tom, you said you’d pretend we were on good terms. Just for tonight,” Tord said, “and so far nothing’s gone wrong.” He said, extending his hand again.

Tom narrowed his eyes at him. “Fuck you.” He said. He turned around sharply and headed for the exit, pushing past people and ducking around dancing couples. He could feel Tord staring after him, but he didn’t stop. He stormed outside in a hurry.

At one point or another, Edd and Matt must’ve noticed the commotion and followed him out.

“Tom! Tom, what the hell?” It was Edd.

“Yeah, what was that all about??” Matt chimed in.

Tom wasn’t listening. There was a ringing in his ears that wasn’t going away. It had been there this morning, it had been there on the balcony, and it was here now, drowning out the sound of his pounding heart.

He stalked across the grass, nearing the road. He distantly recognized that he’d stepped onto the asphalt. He heard his name being called, but he couldn’t tell by whom. The ringing in his ears was louder now; it was all he could hear. It was drowning out the sound of the Mercedes speeding across the road in front of him. He kept walking, he didn’t stop. He couldn’t.

The next thing he knew, he was flying backwards. There was a sharp pain in his side, which he dully recognized before he felt his body slam against something hard. Something very hard. Asphalt.

The ringing in his ears dulled, there were distant sounds of sirens coming from a source he couldn’t recognize. His vision was going dark and splotchy, but he knew it wasn’t panic. He felt an odd sense of calm around him. He noticed the stars twinkling overhead, before they all winked out. Everything went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've no idea what consistent chapter lengths are. Also i have the next two chapters written already cause i was camping and had too much free time, so the next few updates should be soon.
> 
> And um, constructive criticism would be greatly appreciated, also any suggestions for future chapters:) 
> 
> (also i changed the fic name to Flower Crowns, Hearts and Other Things Mend, it was The Truth Keeps Everything Simple before. i just really hated the name)
> 
> I would like to point out that the fandom thinks that Edd is like this small sweet cinnamon roll, i really don't think he is. Ohhh how he isn't;)
> 
> As always, i apologize for any mistakes.
> 
> So, uh, yeah. Here we go.


	5. Healing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't know what to do with this fic anymore
> 
> I wanna quit so badly
> 
> *TW* ABUSIVE HOME

_“THOMAS!” Tom pulled his knees tight against his chest. He heard glass break. More shouts. Something else breaks. Footsteps._

_Suddenly, his bedroom door slams open. He can see his father through the slots in his closet door._

_“Thomas! Where are you, you little brat?!”_

_Tom holds his breath, scared that if he’s too loud, his dad will hear him._

_Tom’s able to see his father’s legs through the slots; his dad’s near his bed right now, checking around it._

_He knows that his father will find him soon enough though; there aren’t too many places for him to hide in this house._

_His dad turns around suddenly. He starts walking towards the closet. Tom’s heart is pounding nearly out of his chest, his grip on his emergency runaway bag tightens and he prepares the empty bottle in the other._

_Far too soon, Tom’s dad yanks open the closet doors. Immediately, Tom’s fight or flight instinct kicks in; he whacks his father in the hip with the empty bottle, which shatters upon impact. His dad shouts and stumbles back a step._

_This gives Tom the second he needs to scramble to his feet and out of the closet. He rushes through the bedroom door and into the rest of the apartment, his bag hanging around his shoulder._   
_He can hear his father’s footsteps chasing after him._

_He almost makes it to the front door when he feels his bag being caught. He gets pulled backwards by his father, who throws him to the floor._

_“YOU BRAT! I do so much for you, this is how you repay me!?” His dad shouts, spit flying in his face. The smell of alcohol is almost overpowering._

_“I don’t want you seeing that faggot boy of yours! He’s bad for you, do you hear!? No son of mine would behave this way!”_

_Tom covers his head with his arms; waiting for the beating he knows is coming._

_He feels his dad kick him in the ribs once. Hard. Then again, and again, until Tom can’t breathe._

_This isn’t the first time Tom’s been beaten over Tord._

_Eventually, after Tom is bruised and beaten to the point where he can’t protect himself anymore, his dad is satisfied. He goes back to the couch to watch some TV, as if nothing happened._   
_As always._

_After a few minutes of lying on the floor, in too much pain to move, Tom finally struggles to his hands and knees. Every muscle in his body screams against it, but he knows he has to. If he doesn’t, his dad might come back for more._

_He stumbles to his room, crawling onto his bed._

_He feels like his lungs have been flattened. He can’t breathe, his vision is going blurry. His ribs ache, his head pounds and his hands are shaking._   
_At one point or another, he blacks out._

 

Tom woke up gasping, sitting bolt upright.

His lungs throb and his head feels like it’s been shot through. He lied back down. For a second, he’s terrified that he’s back in his father’s house.

It took him a moment to realize that the bright lights here don’t match the yellow, flickering ones at the old apartment.

Then the memories came flooding back. The Gala, the balcony, Tord, the road.

“Nurse! He’s awake!” Someone called.

A moment later, a thin young woman hurried into the room. She was wearing pale blue scrubs, and a stethoscope around her neck.

She checked something- a screen, maybe- that’s next to his bed. She looks to him then, “Sir, I’m going to need you to relax for me, okay? Take a deep breath.” She instructed.

He tried. It hurt. He couldn’t do it.

“Status report?” Someone asked, the same voice from before. Edd, maybe? Tom couldn’t tell; his hearing was a little muffled.

“2 broken ribs, a fractured shoulder joint, bruised lungs and a concussion. If everything goes as planned, he should make a full recovery.” The nurse replied.

Tom tried to sit up to see who’d spoken, but the nurse gently pushed him back down.

“Sir. I need you to relax.” She repeated.

Tom groaned, “Where am I?” he asked.

“St. Abraham’s hospital.” She said, checking the monitor again.

“How long have I been here?”

The nurse looked at him for a moment, “2 days.” She said.

He paused. 2 days. It had been 2 days since the Gala. That was… a lot to process.

“When can I go home?” he asked quietly, staring at the ceiling.

“Soon. We have some medication to give you, okay?”

He nodded, “Yeah.”

The nurse smiled faintly at him before leaving the room.

A moment of silence passed before the voice spoke again. “That was close. I told them I was your friend, by the way. Hope you don’t mind.”

Tom had nearly forgotten someone else there.

He sat up quickly, ignoring the nurse’s advice, and stared at the man sitting by the edge of his bed. He looked familiar.

“Do I know you?” Tom asked.

“Pat. Boss said you were at the Gala.” The man replied.

Of course. Pat. The presenter from the Gala. One of Tord’s men.

Tom stared at him for a moment. “Why are you here?” he asked, he couldn’t hide the spite in his voice.

Pat sighed, “Your other friends went home last night. I came to give you this.” He said, handing Tom a plain white envelope with his name scrolled in cursive on it. It looked almost identical to the invitation to the Gala.

“What’s this?” Tom asked.

“An invitation.” Pat replied smoothly.

“For?”

“Open it.”

Tom looked at Pat for a moment with a doubtful look on his face before ripping open the envelope. There was a crimson piece of paper inside. What a shock. He unfolded the page. It read;

_Dear Thomas,_

_I’m sorry to hear about your recent accident. I was wondering if you’d like to meet with me. How about next Wednesday at 8pm? If so, I will have my men pick you up and take you to this address;_

Followed by the address info. At the end, it read;

_See you soon._

_-Tord_

Tom looked at Pat. Was he serious? He expected Tom to go meet Tord one on one? Um, no.

Tom passed the letter back to Pat. “Tell him I declined.” He said flatly.

Pat raised an eyebrow, “I can’t leave until you accept.” He said. Tom only stared at him.

“You what?” he asked.

“I’m under strict orders. I can’t leave your side until you accept.”

Tom scowled at him, “Sure. Get out.” He said.

Pat grinned.

-

After nearly an hour of debating back and forth, Pat won. Tom put up a good fight, but eventually his situation dawned on him, and he gave in. He just didn’t have the strength to fight him right now.

That was that. Tom was going to meet Tord at this address he hardly recognized, for a reason he didn’t know, and he didn’t have a choice. If he didn’t go, Pat would just keep coming back. Or he’d be shot. That part wasn’t too clear, either way it was bad.

So, Pat left. He stood up and left the room like their discussion had been nothing more than friendly small talk.

Edd and Matt came back again. They brought flowers, which was nice. The nurse came by with his medication, most of it consisting of pain killers.

He’d have to have his left arm in a sling for at least 2 weeks, and no jumping around or running for a while. He’d have to be careful of how he moved too; a good amount of his body was bruised.

After a long discussion with the nurse, he was finally excused to get dressed into his regular clothes and go home with Edd and Matt.

Edd insisted on staying with Tom for the next little while to take care of him, which Tom objected to, but it was Edd, so it happened anyways.

-

  
After about a week, Tom shooed Edd back to his own apartment. In the past week, Edd had gotten Tom’s sleep schedule on track, cleaned up his apartment (Tom hid the Polaroids prior to this), and made him actually eat meals.

Tom was sick of it.

By the time Wednesday came around, Tom was more than ready for some action. At 8, Tom was already wearing his leather jacket, equipped with a pocket knife and his phone, for backup.

There was a knock on his door within a few minutes. Tom opened it to see none other than Pat standing outside. Pat and a shorter guy with bushy eyebrows he didn’t recognize.

They led him down the stairs into the lobby and out into the light drizzle outside.

He was surprised when they simply started walking down the street.

“What? No car?” he asked.

The shorter one replied this time, “Nope. Just walking. It isn’t far.”

“How’d you know my address?” he asked.

Pat snickered, “‘s confidential.” He muttered.

-

It turns out the man was right; it wasn’t far. Only a ten-ish minute walk from his apartment. The three of them stopped in front of a little coffee shop, one that Tom had been to before.

It was called Will’s Café. It was a small place, with local food and natural products and whatever else. Tom didn’t really care; if something was edible, he’d eat it.

“Is this the place…?” He asked hesitantly.

Pat nodded, “Yeah. If he ain’t in there now, he’ll be soon.” He replied.

“What? I don’t think—” Tom said, turning around to see that both of the men had already disappeared. He had a shitty feeling about this, but he’d already come this far, so he might as well follow through.

Sucking up his pride, Tom walked into the shop.

Looking around, he didn’t spot Tord, so he found a booth near the corner and sat down.

He remembered reading once that when meeting an enemy, meet on neutral ground or in a public place. He supposed this was as good a place any to do so.

He pulled out his phone and fiddled with it for a while. 15 minutes of checking Twitter later, a hooded figure slid into the seat across from him.

Tom looked up, noticing the scars covering part of the face that was visible.

“Tord.” he said. Even he could hear the hate in his voice.

Tord grinned faintly, reaching up and pulling his hood down.

“Hello, Tom. Glad to see you could come.” He said, his voice sly despite the roughness of it.

“Yeah, sure. What do you want?” Tom asked. He was honestly surprised with the complete indifference he felt now. He just couldn’t bring himself to care about… anything, really.

“There’s something I want to talk to you about that I didn’t get the chance to do at the Gala.”

“Oh? What’s that?” he asked, feigning interest.

Tord reached into what Tom could only assume was a pocket, before pulling out a Polaroid picture.

Tom heard himself gasp quietly. The picture was of him and Tord, from a selfie angle. One from high school. Tom didn’t have this one.

“Wh-where did you get this?” he asked. It was a stupid question, really, but he asked it.

“I took it, Tom. Remember?” Tord replied.

He did, he did remember. He remembered the cool autumn morning when Tord took the photo. They’d been on their way to school when Tord pulled out his camera and got Tom to smile. He specifically remembered there was no problem with his dad that morning. No arguments. Nothing. It’d been a good day.

“Yeah. I do. You… you remember me? From high school?” he said quietly. He was still staring at the picture.

Tord nodded, “Obviously. I never forgot. Once I realized you didn’t remember me though, I knew not to get too attached.”

Tom was speechless. He didn’t know what to say. All those years, living in the same house as Tord, with never actually knowing it was Tord.

Meanwhile, the Norwegian had known the whole time. Known all the times they’d spent together. He knew Tom in a way he’d never realized before. He was living with someone who knew all of his secrets, his past, his whole life, and he never knew.

He felt a pang of loss realizing all of the times he’d been longing comfort with issues the other’s wouldn’t understand, and he didn’t have him. The one person that could have helped, had been there the whole time, and Tom never knew.

That’s the thing though, he might have had him once, but he didn’t have him then and he doesn’t have him now. His Tord is gone. It was too late now; too much had happened. Tom still found himself forcing himself to remember all of the bad times though, if only to reassure himself that the Tord he’d loved was gone.

“Why didn’t you ever… say anything?” He asked. His mind was whirling, it’s all he could do to sit still and ask a question. His instincts were telling him to leave, but he knew that that was just the stress of the situation.

“What was I supposed to say? ‘Hey Tom, I’m your high school lover.’?” Tord asked sarcastically. He was handling the situation better than Tom, for sure.

“I dunno, you could’ve said something.” He said, “It hurt for too long.”

Tord shrugged, there was a hint of sadness in his eyes, “I’d figured you’d moved on.”

It was true. Tom had mostly moved on by the time Tord moved in with them, but he would’ve liked to have known. Maybe they could’ve started something again. Maybe Tord wouldn’t have left them the way he did.

“Still,” he mumbled, propping his head up with his hand.

Tord nodded. “So, how’s your recovery?” he asked.

Tom was confused for a moment, before remembering his trip to the hospital and his injured arm. He wasn’t really ready to change the subject yet, but oh well.

“It’s… fine.” He said.

Tord nodded. It was obvious he wasn’t very engaged in this topic either.

“So what happened once you went back to Norway? I see you’ve dropped the whole pastel thing.” Tom said.

“Yeah. Final year of high school there will do that to you. It was rough.” He replied, “I’ve a question, actually. I’ve been wondering about it for a while.”

Tom looked up at him, “Yeah?” he asked.

“Why’d you never reply?”

“What?”

Tord sighed, “When I got back, we texted a few times. Then… you never replied. Why?”

Tom thought for a moment. Why didn’t he reply…? The memory suddenly hit him like an oncoming train. Right. Of course. Tom’s voice caught in his throat. He’d spent too long repressing the memory.

“I— my dad took my phone. He was angry at me for dating you, the moment he read your last text; he snapped the phone in half and beat me. He told me no one would ever love me.” He said quietly.  
The moment he’d said it, he wished he’d simplified it even more. In his mind, that was the nicest way to put it. Out loud, it sounded terrible. But it honestly was the nicest way to put it; the truth was  
worse. Way worse.

Tord stared at him, his jaw agape. “Tom, I— I’m so sorry…” he whispered. He sounded just like he had in high school, innocent and caring and truthful. It was almost nice to hear him like this again, given the circumstances.

Tom shook his head, “Don’t worry about it. It was a long time ago.” He said, standing up.

He smiled weakly, writing his phone number down quickly and leaving it on the table before heading to the door, “See you soon, Tord.” he said, walking out into the darkness of the pouring rain.

When he got back to his apartment, he broke down crying. He fell to his knees in front of his door and cried, for as long as he needed to. All of the tears he’d held back recently, all of the times he’d forced himself not to cry when he was in his father’s house, he let it out.

He realized he didn’t hate Tord. He knew he didn’t necessarily like him, but he didn’t hate him, and he was okay with that. He needed him right now, and that was okay. For tonight, that was enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like just started writing this fic and i'm already losing motivation ugh
> 
> It's just so bad i can't--
> 
> But, uh, any suggestions?? Please? Improv was a mistake.


	6. Concept art

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just some art¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's not very good, so I'll probably delete it later
> 
> The only reason i had the courage to post this was because i kept chanting to myself that this was my fic and i held all the power, then re-enacted the lion king in my head but instead of Mufasa dying it was my crippling anxiety.
> 
> It worked.
> 
> (Sorry for all of these filler chapters, there are just certain things that i feel need their own chapter.)
> 
> The next chapter will probably be out tomorrow.


	7. Past Tense

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *TW* ABUSIVE HOME & SEXUALITY SHAMING

_The moment Tom opened the door, a glass bottle shattered against the wall. He froze. He debated running, just bolting for it. He needed a key for the staircase though, and the elevator would take too long._

_By the time he realized that he didn’t have anywhere to go, his father had already yanked the door open and was staring at him with a look of utter hate. There was a terrifying wildness in his eyes._

_His father roughly grabbed him by his sweater’s hood and pulled him inside, pushing Tom to the floor._

_Before Tom could get up, his dad was on top of him, straddling his hips so he couldn’t escape._

_His father pulled out Tom’s phone, presenting it to him. The lock screen was open, and a text from Tord read ‘I love you’._

_Tom flinched. He’d left his phone on the kitchen table this morning by accident. He forgot about it until now._

_“YOU FAGGOT!! I told you to stop talking to this boy!! No one will ever love you, do you hear!? He’s a liar! You’re unlovable and disgusting!!” His dad shouted angrily. He was so close to Tom’s face; Tom was gagging on the smell of whiskey in his breath._

_Tom avoided looking his dad in the eyes. He couldn’t; it was too much._

_“Do you hear me, boy!?” His dad leaned in closer. There was a malicious amusement in his voice that terrified Tom._

_With a sudden rage, he reared his hand back and punched his father straight in the jaw. He watched as his dad shouted in rage and stumbled off of him._

_Tom scrambled to his feet, snatching his school bag off of the floor and running to his room. He pushed his desk chair under the door knob to keep it shut._

_He could hear his dad’s shouts in the other room, then angry banging on his bedroom door._

_A rush of adrenaline shot through Tom. He grabbed a knife from off of his desk and gripped it in his hand, before opening the window and carefully climbing onto the sill._

_The door swung open as his desk chair fell out of place and landed on the floor. His dad stormed into the room. Tom tried getting to the fire escape, but his father grabbed him before he could even make it fully outside._

_He was dragged back into the room, he staggered back for a moment before being thrown onto the floor. He scrambled to prop himself up on his elbows, he didn’t have time to before he was kicked in the side though. He cried out and rolled over, gripping his ribs._

_“That’s what you get, you brat! That’ll teach you!”_

_For the next 10 minutes, Tom was beaten black and blue._

_Eventually, his father was satisfied with his disciplining. He crouched down next to him, holding up Tom’s phone. He grinned and snapped it in half with a sickening crack._  
_“That’s what you deserve, fag.”_

 

Tom woke up with a pounding headache and tears drying on his cheeks. At one point or another last night, he’d made it into his bed.

He groaned at the memory of the dream. That phone had been his last connection to Tord, and the last thing ever said between them had been ‘I love you’.

He wondered if, maybe, he hadn’t left his phone at home that morning, would he and Tord still have something? Or would he still have shot him down with a harpoon gun?  
Tom sighed; it was too early for this.

He went back to bed.

-

It had been a week since he talked with Tord at the cafe. Not long enough.

He crawled out of bed lazily. It was 12:37am according to the clock on his phone.

He went out into the main part of his apartment. He made some coffee with the hand that wasn’t restricted, adding a good few tablespoons of sugar, before chugging it all.

Afterwards, he set himself up on his couch and wasted his day away.

The next time he checked his clock, it was 6pm. He was hungry. Very hungry. He gathered himself a cup of noodles and a block of cheese before settling back down onto the couch.

He noticed a notification on his phone from a number he didn’t recognize.

_Unknown number: You busy? I have something to show you._

_Tom: What? Who are you?_

_Unknown number: Flower Crown. Look out your window._

Tom groaned, getting to his feet. He wandered over to his balcony door and slid it open, looking over the old rusted railing.

On the street below him, he was able to see a figure clad in black leather, with a black helmet that had a red reflective visor. They were sitting on a black motorcycle, looking in his direction.

He pulled out his phone quickly;

_Tom: Explanation?_

He watched as the figure checked their phone, typing quickly before he received a reply.

_Unknown number: I have something to show you._

_Tom: Who. Are. You._

_Unknown number: Think. Who have you given your number to lately?_

Tom racked his brain to remember. Oh. Of course.

_Tom: Tord?_

_Unknown number: There you go. Now get out here, Jehovah, before I make you. Seriously, I’ve something to show you._

Tom groaned; he wasn’t too sure how he felt about Tord at the moment. He didn’t like him, but he didn’t hate the idea of being around him. Especially after their talk at the coffee shop.

_Tom: Fine. If you kill me, I’ll haunt you for the rest of your life._

_Unknown number: Sure._

Abandoning his noodles and cheese, Tom grabbed his leather jacket from the coat rack and threw it on, carefully maneuvering it around the sling, and over his tank top. It was accompanied by black skinny jeans. Good enough.

He met Tord outside, where he was handed an extra helmet.

He was surprisingly okay with trusting his life in the hands of the man who blew up his house.

“I didn’t know you had a motorcycle.” He remarked.

“You don’t know a lot about me.” Tord’s voice was slightly muffled through the helmet, but Tom was still able to make out the smugness of his tone.

Tom sighed, “You realize my arm is in a sling, right?” he asked.

Tord only shrugged, “Hold on tight, then.”

Tom groaned, struggling with his helmet for a moment before finally managing to get it on. He exchanged a look with Tord, even though neither of them could see each other’s faces through the visors, they both knew what the other was thinking.

How bad of a mistake was this?

He swung his leg over the back of the bike and wrapped an arm around Tord, the other one staying against his side.

He could almost feel Tord’s self-satisfied smirk as he revved the engine and took off.

They drove down the city highway for a while, eventually reaching country road. Barns and farmhouses zipped in and out of his peripheral vision. There were wind turbines as far as the eye could see and farmers herding their cattle inside for the night.

It was oddly relaxing being out here with Tord. Tom found himself pressed against the other, his head resting against his back. It was nice.

He didn’t find himself questioning their destination as much as he thought he would, he was perfectly fine riding almost 100 kilometers an hour down country road forever.

After what must have been about an hour or so of riding, Tord pulled over next to an old farmhouse.

At first, Tom assumed they’d run out of gas or something, but when Tord climbed off and took off his helmet, he knew it wasn’t that. Tord had the biggest smile on his scarred face; he looked so content being here.

Tom couldn’t stop himself from smiling as well.

It was almost dark when Tord ushered him off the bike and helped him remove his helmet, seeing as he only had one working arm, and led him to the side of the house.

The house was old. Very old. 150 years at least. It was made out of a yellowing cobblestone and rotting wood. The back half of the roof had caved in, but the rest looked relatively intact.

“What’s this?” Tom asked.

“Safe.” Was Tord’s answer.

Tord showed Tom a fairly new looking ladder propped up against the wall of the building.

“Ladies first.” He said smoothly.

Tom scowled at him. “Hell no. You first. I still don’t trust you.” he said. Tord shrugged and climbed up the ladder, Tom following soon after.

Once on the roof, Tom realized it was a lot worse for wear than he’d originally thought. The original roof had random, misplaced holes in it, and each roof board had a considerable space between them. This part was flat though, so that was a plus.

A few sheets of plywood had been put over top the rotted ‘shingles’ as if to offer more support for anyone sitting atop the building, but Tom doubted they would do much. There were also a couple blankets and cushions under a tarp on the far side of the area.

“Safe? Is this what you call safe?” Tom asked.

Tord shrugged. He was already finding himself a place on the plywood amongst the cushions. “It’s really not so bad. Try not to think about it.”

Yeah, right. Tom carefully tip toed across the plywood, eventually making his way to Tord. He sat down cautiously on a blanket he’d had laid out.

“You all set, Princess?” Tord asked, snickering lightly.

Tom shot him a glare. “So, why am I here?” he asked.

“Well, there’s something I want to show you,” Tord replied, stretching his arms up and tucking them behind his head as he lay down on his back, “look up.”

Tom looked up, and gasped. The sky was a beautiful black to blue to purple gradient. There were grey clouds swirling around in wispy designs across the night. And the stars; the stars were the best part. They shone brighter than Tom had ever seen them before, and they dotted the night sky like the pale freckles across Tord’s cheeks.

Tom looked over to the man lying next to him; he could see the stars reflected in his olive green eye. Tord looked over at him, showing him a faint smile.

“Pretty, huh?” he asked.

It wasn’t just pretty; it was breathtaking. Tom couldn’t believe it; he’d never seen anything look this way before.

“It’s… Tord, this is beautiful.” Tom sighed, he heard himself as if from a distance. Everything felt kind of dreamlike, like he was floating. There wasn’t a worry in the world.

Tord smiled, “I’m glad you think so.” He said. He seemed way more relaxed now than he had back in the coffee shop.

Tom could understand why he’d loved him so much. He was so charming like this. He was older now, the spark in his eye had died out long ago. His innocence stripped from him, but he was the same person he’d been ten years ago.

The same Tord. His Tord. Except, he wasn’t his. Tord wasn’t his; he had no right to him. But he felt the same connection as before, the same desire.

He realized he didn’t dislike Tord, he didn’t necessarily like him, or what he’d become, but he didn’t dislike him. He was okay with that. He was okay with being mutual with him, and for tonight that was enough.

“Why’d you show me this?” Tom asked.

Tord hesitated for a moment; thinking. “This place is special to me. It’s a place where I’m not a fearless leader or a ruthless killer. I’m just… me. That’s something I don’t get to be a lot. I wanted to share it with someone that I know, and that knows me as me. That person would be you.” He explained.

Tom looked at him in surprise; he hadn’t expected that. “I… wow. That’s… not the answer I was expecting.”

Tord nodded, “I can imagine. But it’s true, you know me better than anyone else.”

Tom looked back up to the sky, “What about Pat? Your whole army?” he asked.

“I’m their leader. They’re my men. They know me as a commander, not an equal. Which, I mean, is nice, but it’s lonely.”

Tom nodded.

“Why’d you agree to come?” Tord asked.

Tom looked down for a moment in thought, “I… I don’t know, I kind of miss you? Like, what we had. In high school, I mean. You’re just… you’re different than Edd and Matt. You’re so much more real.” He realized only after he finished talking how nice he sounded. Like he actually cared about Tord. He didn’t. Not at all, of course, but that’s how it sounded.

He didn’t care about Tord. He couldn’t; Tord was evil and cold hearted with eyes that shone like stars and a smile that lit up a room and the nicest little laugh and—

Okay, maybe he cared about him a little bit. Just a little.

Tord looked at him, his eyes (eye?) wide. “I had no idea you thought that. I thought you hated me.” He said

Tom sighed, “I don’t hate you. I don’t know if I like you, necessarily, but I don’t hate you.”

Tord nodded, “You… loved me, right?” he asked. The question caught Tom off guard; it seemed like such an odd question. Why would Tord be asking?

“I loved you. Loved, past tense.” He replied.

“Can you forgive me?” Present or future tense?” Tord asked, not missing a beat.

“I don’t know.”

Tord was silent for a while. He was looking at the sky in thought. After a few moments of silence, he spoke again. “Sometimes I wish I could just close my eyes and go back to the way we were.”

Tom looked at him a moment before looking up at the constellations dotting the sky. “Me too.” He whispered.

They spent the rest of the night on the roof together, watching the stars and talking. They talked about their time in high school. They talked about the stars and constellations. It was nice to have a conversation with someone without them questioning his health.

They rode home at 4am in a comfortable silence. The sun was just beginning to rise when Tom was dropped off at his apartment.

“Let’s do this again sometime.” Tord said once Tom passed him the extra helmet.

“Yeah. I’d like that.” He replied. He smiled at him before saying goodbye and heading back to his apartment. He fell asleep once he reached his bed.

There were no dreams that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sad to say, I'm kind of losing motivation. The comments I'm receiving are literally the only reason I'm continuing. I wish that wasn't the case, but it is, so a HUGE shoutout to everyone who's commented. I'm still going to write it, of course, but it might lack a bit.
> 
> (please note that while writing this chapter, my brain was bit scattered, so sorry if some of it seems nonsensical)
> 
> Also, if you guys have any ideas for future chapters, feel free to share them. As I've mentioned before, i don't have a set plot, so more ideas would be helpful.
> 
> That's about it. thanks;)


	8. Little note for y'all

Hey guys! I'm so sorry that I haven't updated recently, I've been having kind of a hard time, plus I've been slipping in and out of fandoms. Again, I'm so sorry to those of you that have been around for a while and have been waiting on an update, I will try to get one out soon, I promise. Anyways, I would like to give a HUGE thank you to those few fans out there that are sticking around, you guys really make a difference. Thanks for all of your kind words and encouragement, it means SO SO much to me.

Carrying on, here are a few ideas I've come up with, and a few that were suggested to me, that I might use:

-the stargazing becomes a regular thing

-a major rift between Tord and Tom

-a drunken incident 

-Tom's health plummeting and Tord trying to help

If you have any more, or there are any that I listed that you definitely want me to use, lemme know. Again, I'm SO sorry and thank you SO much to all of you that have stuck around. Just poppin by to let you know that I'm alive and I WILL continue (if everything goes well) love you guys so much thank you all


	9. Crowds

The music pounded. Bodies shifted against one another. The smell of sweat and liquor filled the room. Lights flashed across figure to figure, illuminating the room with a technicolour beat.

Tom moved his body in time to the rhythm of the trance music blaring around them. Edd and Matt shifted against one another, fitting together like a Picasso painting.

Tom had found some stranger to dance with; some man with dark skin and a short ponytail. Truthfully, Tom had no intention of ever seeing this man again, but for tonight, he was drunk and alone and the music was loud and the vodka was in his system and that was enough.

Tom slid his arms around the man’s neck, sliding his body against the other’s sensually.

He smiled, the alcohol making him feel warm and fuzzy, and then the world faded into black.

-

Tom woke up in his apartment with a groan. He tried to sit up, but his head screamed against it.

It look him a moment to realize why he’d woken up. His phone was buzzing next to his head. He groaned again, feeling around for it lazily before managing to grab a hold of it and press the answer button.

“Hullo-?” he asked croakily, his hangover pounding painfully in his head.

“Mr. Thomas R? Yes, hello, this is Nancy; I’m from St. Abraham’s hospital. I’m calling about the night of the 18th? We have a witness report saying you stepped out in front of a moving vehicle?” The woman on the other end of the line replied.

It took Tom longer than it should’ve to register what the woman was talking about.

“Uhm, yes?” he replied, because, really, what was he supposed to say?

“Are you able to come in today to talk to a doctor?” she asked.

Tom faltered. He’d been through this before; if they ruled his road-walking as a suicide attempt, or a lack of mental stability, then he’d be sent away. And he did not want that. Not again.

“Uh- I’m kind of sick today. Today won’t work” he replied quickly, and, really, it wasn’t a _total_ lie.

“I see. When will you be available?” The woman- Nancy- asked.

“Uhm- I’ll check my calendar and get back to you on that.” He lied quickly, before scrambling to hang up the phone before she could talk anymore.

He groaned, putting his phone back on the bed and closing his eyes. He thought back to last night, at the club, and he couldn’t remember most of it. He remembered dancing with some stranger, but nothing after that. He hoped it was Edd or Matt that drove him back; he didn’t want some rando knowing where he lived.

He spent the rest of the day in bed.

-

It had been a week since the hospital called him, and three since he saw Tord. He hadn’t talked to either since.

Tom was busy in his kitchen, crouching on the counter, typing away at a welfare re-application on his laptop when his phone buzzed.

He picked it up casually, not taking his eyes away from 2010 Word on his PC.

“Hullo?” he said, continuing to type away.

“Hey, Tom. You get that welfare application in yet?” Edd asked from the other end.

“Working on it. Why? What’s up?” he asked absentmindedly, attention still focused on his screen.

“Here’s the thing; I saw this poster, you see, and I think I know another way for you to make money. For _us_ to make money?”

Tom paused his typing, “Okay? And?” he asked.

“Okay, it might sound a little crazy, and I understand if you don’t want to, but hear me out. Cage fighting.” Edd said; a certain kind of excitement in his voice.

Tom nearly spit out the coffee he wasn’t drinking. “What? Edd, that’s insane. You have literally no experience with fighting; you’d be killed in seconds.”

Edd’s shrug was nearly audible. “Okay, maybe, but I _was_ a superhero for a day. And, again, this is gonna sound crazy, but you were a monster for a bit, and I _know_ that you can still tap into that power. Think about it; we’d be unstoppable.”

Tom groaned, whacking his head against the cabinet behind him. “Edd. That’s CRAZY.” He said, although, he had to admit, it was an interesting idea. An interesting idea that’d get him killed, but still interesting.

Edd, as always, ignored his protests. “Anyways, there’s an event tonight. Let’s go. You don’t have to fight, neither of us do, but we can at least watch. See if it’s our style, you know?” Edd was usually excellent at bargaining, at twisting a situation in his favour, but tonight there was a certain desperate edge to his offer.

“Edd, what’s this really about?” Tom asked, his voice sounded tired even in his own ears.

Edd let out a defeated sigh. “You always were good at reading me, huh?” he mumbled, “Okay. Listen. My welfare application was denied, and I’ve yet to get a job that pays enough for rent and food, so until then, I’ve got to get some cash. You _can_ fight though, right? Didn’t you box in high school?” Edd sounded desperate, and definitely in need of assistance.

Truthfully, Tom had never boxed in high school; that had just been an easier explanation for his experience with fighting than the truth.

Tom sighed, “Alright, fine. We can go _watch_. That’s it. After tonight, I’m gonna help you find a better job, okay?”

“Okay. Yes. That’s a good plan. Thanks.” Edd said, just barely supressing his relief. “You okay to leave in an hour?

Tom groaned quietly, “Yeah. I guess. I’ll meet you at your apartment.” He said, before hanging up the call.

He finished up the next couple lines of his application before reading it through and sending it off. He closed his laptop and set the old thing on the counter, before getting dressed in a dark hoodie, skinny jeans and a leather jacket. The more intimidating he looked, the better.

He shoved an old switch blade into his pocket, took a moment to consider how many bad decisions he flung himself into, checked the time (10:22pm), and left.

He met Edd at his apartment, they hopped into a cab, and took off. After about 15 minutes of turning from sketchy looking street to sketchier looking street, they arrived at the address Edd had given the driver.

It was an old looking, run-down bar. There were low yellowish lights filtering through the boarded up windows.

They paid the driver what was owed and stepped out of the car, which immediately took off the moment they were out. Tom sighed, exchanging a look with Edd before they cautiously entered the building.

Inside, there were only a few people visible. Most were security, Tom guessed, the others probably stoned.

Coming from somewhere in the back, there was shouting, hollering, hooting, clanging, shrieking, the works. Two guards, both at least twice as big as Tom or Edd, guarded a red velvet curtain blocking the entryway into what Tom assumed was the fight.

Edd took a deep breath and approached the guards. He showed them the flyer he had, “We’re here for the show.” He announced, but Tom could hear his voice shaking.

The guards looked at one another; the woman, who was the taller of the two, whispered something to the man and he pushed the curtain back for them.

Edd nodded to them and led Tom through the doorway into the stifling crowd.

Tom’s first thought was that they’d entered a wrestling match. The crowd screamed, jumping up and down, booing occasionally. It smelled like sweat and alcohol and blood.

In the center of the audience there was a large, metal chain-link cage. Inside, Tom was able to make out two people fighting. One of them sung their leg up and thwacked the other in the jaw with their heel, effectively knocking them down.

The crowd went wild. People shrieked, climbed on top of one another, shoved past to get a better look.

After a few minutes, the announcer managed to rile down the excited viewers.

“Now, now, everyone! That’s our champions fifth time winning tonight! Give him a round of applause, would you!” The crowd went crazy again, and Tom had to grab Edd’s wrist just to keep him grounded.

After another few minutes, the announcer looked around the crowd almost comically. “Any volunteers to fight our champion? Come on! Anyone?” his voice sounded like it was straight out of a 1940s cartoon as he addressed his watchers.

The crowd, surprisingly, went dead quiet. No one moved. People looked around for who the next competitor would be, but said nothing.

Then, the announcer’s eyes looked over at him. Tom froze, terror pulsed through his body. When the audience eventually noticed the man’s silence, they followed his line of sight and all of their attention focused on Edd.

Tom snapped his head over to Edd, who’d gone stark white. He realized with a jolt that the announcer hadn’t been looking at him; he’d been looking at Edd.

“Come on up, kid! Whadya say?” the announcer called out, gesturing for Edd to go and join him on the cage’s platform.

Edd shook his head vigorously, fear glistening on each bead of sweat on his forehead. Suddenly, two, three, maybe more people were surrounding them. And then Edd was being edged forward, stumbling over himself, struggling against the crowd.

Tom froze. He couldn’t move. He felt his breath get caught in his throat. What was he gonna do? What could he do?

By the time Edd had been ushered up to the front of the room, Tom’s fight or flight instinct had kicked in. and he shoved past the huddle in front of him in order to get a clearer view.

“Wait!” he called. His voice sounded dry, and it cracked awkwardly when he called out.

Everyone turned towards him, including the announcer and his Champion.

“I-” he cleared his throat, “I volunteer. I’ll fight.”

No one’s eyes left him, Edd gave him a disapproving look, but Tom could tell he was relieved.

The announcer’s smile widened. “Perfect. Get up here, chap.” He said, waving him over.

Tom took a deep breath. The crowd in front of him parted themselves, making a clear aisle for him.

He slowly walked forward; head down, hands in his pockets. He could feel everyone’s eyes on him and his boots made an absurd amount of noise as he walked across the concrete floors.

_Thud, thud, thud._

He reached the front of the room, exchanged a quick look with Edd, and had the announcer haul him up onto the platform.

“What’s your name, son?” The announcer whispered to him.

“Uh- Tom,” Tom replied awkwardly. He knew illegal fighters usually had really badass names, but he was too nervous and panicked to think of one now.

“You know the rules, Tom?” he whispered.

“Um- no?”

“No weapons, no neck blows, don’t die. Understood? Great.” Without giving Tom the time to reply, the man grabbed his arm and pulled it up into the air.

“Folks! Meet our new competitor, T-Bird!” The announcer cried, and the crowd went wild again. Some booed, some cheered, some laughed. It was all white noise to Tom.

Also, T-Bird? Rude.

Tom was ushered into the cage before he even had time to think about it. The door was slammed shut behind him, and then it was just him, the Champion and the roaring crowd.

The Champion was dressed all in black; black hood, black jacket, black gloves, everything. He had a black full-face mask too, only his eye was visible.

Distantly, Tom could hear Edd calling out to him, warning him, trying to stop him, cheering him on, Tom had no idea.

He swallowed hard. This was going to end badly.

As soon as the bell rang, the Champion sprang towards him. He was able to duck out of the way just in time, but when he turned back to look at the Champion, he was lunging forwards again.

Tom, already not having his balance back, fell back onto the floor. He was able to dodge again, just barely skidding out of reach again.

The Champion effortlessly changed angles, spinning around on the ball of his foot and kicking Tom, who was still on the ground, solidly in the side.

Tom grunted at the force, but managed to drag himself upwards within a matter of seconds.

Okay. Enough fooling around. This is serious.

Tom positioned his feet under him and brought his fists forward, the way he’d seen boxers do on TV.

He ducked out of the way of another swing and aimed his fist at the gut of the Champion. The Champion moved out of the way swiftly, managing a punch directly at Tom’s jaw.

Tom staggered back slightly, a little shocked at the force of the blow. He turned his head and spit out a wad of blood. This is _serious._

He lunged for the Champion, managing to hit his gut again, but was rewarded with two more hits to the head, both with the man’s left hand. _Thwak, thwak._

His head pounded and his jaw ached, but he couldn’t quit.

Tom slid to the right and managed to nail a shallow blow to the Champion’s temple. The Champion staggered back a step, before swiftly raising his head to look at Tom; his piercing green eye was filled with amusement.

Tom tried to get out of the way, but he was shoved to the ground in his attempt to dodge.

“Fuck!” he hissed, his palms slapping against the cement floor painfully. He rolled from his chest onto his back in order to push himself to his feet, but was quickly shoved to the ground by a harsh leather boot against his hoodie.

He gasped. He felt a gloved fist connect with his cheek. He could feel something hot and wet roll down his face; blood, probably. Then another punch, and another, and another, notably all with the Champion’s left hand.

He coughed, trying to catch his breath, and tasted blood.

Tom grunted, glaring up at his opponent. That startling green eye glared back at him, and then the man’s right fist came down towards Tom’s face, and Tom closed his eyes.

Pain exploded through his whole body. This was worse than the other blows. Way worse. Brass knuckles, maybe? Tom didn’t know, he didn’t care. His head pounded, each pulse sending a new wave of pain through his entire being. He didn’t want to move, he couldn’t. He felt numb, dead, worse than dead.

What felt like an eternity later, the pain subsided into more of a thudding ache. Tom was suddenly aware of the crowd cheering madly, chanting something. There was the sound of metal rattling, and then Edd’s voice calling his name.

He opened his eyes slightly, squinting into the overbearing light. He distantly remembered noting how dim the lights were when he first entered.

With Edd’s help, he was able to make it to his feet. The roar of the crowd had died down, to a low rumble. People were chatting amongst themselves, hyped for the next event, placing bets and paying up for the ones they lost. Tom suddenly felt a very strong hate for these people.

Tom’s eyes gradually adjusted to the light, and he spotted the Champion standing by the other side of the cage, chatting with the announcer.

Tom, still using Edd for support, lifted his head to call out to the Champion.

“Hey, you!” he shouted, his voice sounded strained and raspy, definitely not as tough as he’d like. The Champion turned around and looked at him. Tom was able to make out the crinkling of his eye as he smiled.

“What the fuck, man? Brass knuckles? Really?” Tom said, shaking his head slightly at the man.

The man smiled again, “Even better.” He replied.

Tom froze. That voice.

The Champion raised his right hand and took off his glove, revealing a bright red robotic hand.

Tom gasped. “Tord.” he breathed.

Tord laughed slightly; only evident by the way his shoulders shook.

“Asshole.” Tom muttered, glaring at him coldly. He suddenly hated this man again.

With Edd’s help, Tom turned and walked out of the cage and down the few concrete steps into the rest of the room.

“Tom, come on!” He heard Tord call after him, but he didn’t care. He just wanted to get home.

It took half an hour for him and Edd to call down a taxi and get back to their apartments. Once Tom was home, he wiped the blood off of his face with some cool water and passed out on his bed.

He would _never, NEVER_   do that again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's late, and pretty horrible, and I'm sorry that it's taken so long. Have it. 
> 
> (aka i just wanted to write a fight scene)


	10. Hopefully not goodbye (a/n)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please remember that I love you all thank you so much

Hi! Author here! So, I have some bad news for you all. I can’t continue this fic. And, well, it’s honestly just cause of my own negligence. I’ve almost completely lost interest in the fandom, and I’m just so drained all of the time. I have 0 motivation or inspiration for this, and it sucks. I want to finish this, I want to continue it, but I really just,, can’t. You’re all so supportive and lovely and I don’t deserve you guys?? I’m so, so, incredibly sorry for this. But! There is something else that I want to add!

I have Instagram and tumblr! And! If you have experience writing and think that you would want to continue/co-continue this fic, feel free to let me know! Or even if you just want to chat, hmu. Honestly, I’d be happy to talk with any of you, you’re all so kind and supportive! Ugh, I don’t deserve you.

But yeah, feel free to talk to me any time, or if you’d be interested in continuing the story, hit me up. Just tell me that you’re from ao3, and I’d be down to chat.

Insta: @they_see_me_rennin OR @lighthouse.pilot

Tumblr: time-to-feed-the-turtles

OR, if you’re feeling spicy, LGBTQ+ Amino/ Art Amino: @lighthouse.pilot

Again, I’m so, so sorry that I’m ending this here, for my authorship anyways. It was fun while it lasted, and thank you all for joining me on this ride. If no one takes up the author mantle, then feel free to imagine whatever ending you want. Thank you all so much, and I’m so, so sorry.

You’re all super great, and you deserve better.

Hopefully this isn’t goodbye, maybe we’ll talk soon?

With love,  
Author

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry for any mistakes or flaws in this chapter, I'm writing this all without a plan and it's a struggle.  
> Anyways, new chapters should be coming soon, look out for that¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


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